


Maps

by moonstruckbucky



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Post CA: TWS, Red String of Fate, soulmate!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 03:55:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19034275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonstruckbucky/pseuds/moonstruckbucky
Summary: Everyone has a red string of fate – also known as a ‘soulmate string’ – wrapped around their pinkie finger that only they can see. What happens when your string leads you to a soulmate you never saw coming? Takes place just after the events of TWS.





	Maps

The string appeared when you turned thirteen. It seemed to materialize out of nowhere as it coiled around your pinky finger, red and glowing. You were in class when it happened, when you felt it tighten around your skin. Not too hard that it cut off circulation, but just enough that you always knew it was there. You’d glanced around the classroom, wondering if anyone else happened to see the bright red string that seemed to float off somewhere out the window.

Yet no one was looking at you oddly, no one was asking questions. No one was looking at you at all.

Your parents were elated when you came home and told them what had happened, examining your left hand as if they could actually see the string.

“It’s a special occurrence,” your mother said with all the excitement of a lovesick teenager. “It means the universe has found someone who’s your perfect match.”

The string was a map to your soulmate, and for a while, you followed it when it tugged gently on your finger. It took you across the country from your hometown in Oregon until you ended up in DC, signing a month-to-month lease on an apartment that was just out of your price range. You had minimal belongings with you, figuring your string would tug you along in another direction.

But it didn’t.

It kept you in DC, though instead of pulling, now it vibrated, sending tremors through your wrist and up your arm. Were you close? Was that what this meant?

The string continued to pulse evenly for the next couple of weeks, alternating from incredibly powerful to nearly there. It vibrated at its fastest when Captain America and his Avenger friends got into a very public battle with some bad people downtown, and then it slowed again to a dull pulsation that you barely felt. It had you monumentally confused; had your soulmate been downtown when that happened? Had they been injured?

One afternoon, you were walking from your office to a small restaurant a few blocks over for lunch with a coworker. You chatted happily about her plans for her upcoming vacation with her soulmate, and it brought an ache to your heart. You glanced down at the string around your pinky. It floated off into the distance, vanishing around a corner. The vibrations were small today, only little pulses every so often. The absence of life made you frown.

“Are you okay?” your coworker asked, picking up on your fallen mood. Your mouth quirked into a small, forced smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired. I was up late writing out that report for Harding.”

She seemed to buy it, barreling into another riveting conversation about what she and her soulmate would get up to when they went to Greece in a couple weeks. You wanted to ask how she did it, how she found her soulmate Ethan, but you knew if she said something other than, “I had to move across the country to find him”, you’d only feel worse. You were thirty, for Thor’s sake! How much longer before you could enjoy your time with your soulmate? At this rate, you’d be too old to do anything other than sit on the couch watching old movies.

The thought made you bitter, and so you kept your mouth shut. You didn’t want to know how she met her soulmate because you knew it would be something monumentally cute and perfect. It was bitter and rude not to ask, but it’d be more rude to show your envy.

That night, you had trouble sleeping. The string was pulling now in addition to its usual vibrating.

“What the hell,” you murmured sleepily, rubbing your eyes to see the string pulling from the direction of your window. It was stronger now, so much so that you actually felt as if it moved your feet forward. Sliding into a pair of boots, you threw on your coat and left your apartment, jogging down the street as the string went wild.

It led you through a maze of streets until you ended up further from your apartment than you’d liked to be at 3:10 in the morning. But the string was adamant now, tugging and vibrating so furiously that you had no choice but to follow it. The red glow lit your way in the dark as it brought you to the docks next to the Potomac river. Bells tolled as the boats rocked, stirred by the gentle waves. It was colder by the water, and you tugged your jacket more tightly around you.

A bright red glow brought your eyes back to the string, where its usual red glow had been amplified. The glow pulsed in time with the vibrations, almost as if…

As if it were a heartbeat.

That made you pause. Heartbeats were regular, steady, unless put under stress. This one was slow, faint, the beats far between. Face paling, you hurried your steps until you were jogging down the dock, the string beckoning like a lighthouse to a lost ship. Your boot slipped on the wet wood, but you caught and righted yourself, letting the string pull you along.

The vibrations came faster, but the glow pulsed the same. Slow, but steadying, and you felt a little relief knowing your soulmate wasn’t about to die before you could find them. The string disappeared up the gangplank of a fishing boat, and it was here that you hesitated. Clearly, your soulmate was inside, injured or stressed, and you were hesitating.

Were you ready for this? Ready for what could possibly greet you inside? Your deep breath in was shaky, your exhale heavy. At your sides, your hands curled into fists and unrolled, fingers wiggling in anticipation. All these years, all of the searching, the moves, the experiences had led you to this one place where your person was waiting. With a quick body shake to rid yourself of nerves, you took a step forward onto the gangplank, the wood creaking under your weight.

It held as you took your second step, and then your third. Up, up, until you were able to step onto the deck of the boat. The string was bright now, almost blindingly so, and it disappeared into a hatch that led below the boat. You moved forward slowly, hands pressing on the edge of the hatch so you could peer down into the dark. The string’s light didn’t do much in the way of illuminating the area.

“Okay,” you murmured. “Here goes nothin’.”

You climbed down, feeling more and more like those characters in horror movies who do stupid things despite being yelled at by audiences outside the TV. The small, dark area reeked of fish, a smell that stung your nose with its potency. You covered your nose with your sleeve, breathing through your mouth as you pressed onward, much more slowly now that you were in the dark.

“H-Hello?” you asked. You could slap yourself.

You froze at the sound of shifting fabric. Before you could turn, a body was pressed to your back, a cold hand clamped over your mouth. You inhaled sharply, suppressing a scream, and squeezed your eyes closed.

“How did you find me?” a deep masculine voice growled. It sounded pained, and when he adjusted his grip on your face, you heard the sound of scraping metal, felt the shifting of plates against your lips. Your lips trembled, and he released you just enough so you could answer.

“P-Please, don’t hurt me,” you whimpered, a tear sliding down your cheek.

“How did you find me?” the voice growled again. Your body tried to turn, tried to see your captor, but the man held you tightly against him.

“This,” you whispered, holding up your left hand in front of you.

To your shock, and your captor’s horror, the red string, currently glowing brighter than it ever had, connected your pinky fingers. Now that you focused on it, it felt warm, like a loving embrace. Your body sagged a little at the relief before it tensed again when he shoved you roughly away with a snarl.

Finally, you turned around, cowering a little at the hulking frame of the man standing before you. You couldn’t see his entire face, only a portion of the left side in the glow of the string. In the light of it, still glowing strongly between you, his left arm glinted, and realization set in like icy water had been dumped over your head. It was metal.

Your soulmate was the Winter Soldier.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, breath coming out in a cloud in the cold dampness of the hatch. The Soldier grunted then, pressing his metal hand, the one to which the string was attached, to his side. The metal came away bloody. “Holy shit, you’re hurt!”

You took a step forward, faltering when the Soldier’s head snapped up and he growled. You held up your hands in a show of surrender.

“Can I….Can I look?” His lip curled back as you lifted your foot, and you waited, moving slow as if you were approaching a caged animal instead of a man. “Please. I mean no harm, okay?”

The Soldier remained still, eyes watching in the dark warily as you stepped up in front of him. You tugged him closer to the light, a feat in itself as the Soldier was six feet of solid muscle, and gasped at the wound in his side. His suit was ripped, the gash bleeding steadily. He stiffened when you laid your hand on his stomach, bending to get a closer look.

“It….It doesn’t look too deep,” you told him, chancing a glance up at him. In the better light, you could make out handsome features: a sharp jawline, dark hair that hung in his face, a piercing gaze. “My apartment isn’t far. I can….I can fix you. Is that okay?”

The Soldier retreated a step, grunting his disapproval of your idea. “It’ll heal.”

“I’m sure it will but, please, at least let me clean it. How long has it been like that?” He didn’t answer. “Uh huh. Well, I’m sorry but I’m not taking no for an answer here, buddy.”

To your surprise, the Soldier’s mouth twitched slightly in amusement. Here he was, a trained assassin, the Fist of Hydra, intimidating as he was lethal, and yet you had the nerve to fight back. When he saw the seriousness in your eyes, he relented, allowing you to help him out of the hatch.

“So,” you said, leading the way back to your apartment. You opted to stay off the main streets, for fear of someone recognizing the Soldier and calling the police, or worse, the Avengers. “How did you end up at the docks with a knife wound?”

“Climbed out of the river,” he answered shortly, scanning the area for unseen threats. He was limping a little, and you noticed his right arm was clenched to his side.

“That was you, wasn’t it? The fight downtown and the helicarriers going down?” You’d heard the story on the news, and fortunately you were far enough away from the Potomac to not be affected when the aircrafts came down. He stayed silent, looking away from you as you peered up at him. “Do you have a name?”

He cocked an eyebrow, looking down at you inquisitively.

“Well, I can’t just call you Soldier, can I?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw as he ground his teeth, and he once again remained quiet. Sighing inaudibly, you dropped your eyes to the pavement and continued on.

Sneaking a six-foot, two-hundred pound assassin into your apartment was probably the boldest thing you’d done in a long time, and it went surprisingly easily. Despite it being close to five in the morning, the halls were empty in your building. Once inside your small apartment, you suddenly felt nervous. The Soldier looked massive in your small space, and he looked around at your home, surveying everything. You didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on the windows facing the building next door.

“Just have a seat in the kitchen. I’ll be right back.”

When you returned from the bathroom, where your first aid kit sat mostly unused in your cabinet, the Soldier was still in the living room, dripping dirty water onto the carpet. You pursed your lips in minor irritation, praying you’d be able to get the stains out. The Soldier watched you warily as you led the way into the kitchen, moving slowly like he was being led into a trap.

Wordlessly you pulled out a chair and pointed to it, silently ordering him to sit. He eased into it with all the nimbleness of a dancer. Even injured and with his massive form he moved gracefully. He sat rigid in the chair while you dug through the kit. In the light of your apartment, he was a mess. Cuts littered his handsome face, but now you could see his eyes were a brilliant shade of blue, and they were watching your every move.

“You can relax, you know,” you muttered, though you knew it was futile.

You weren’t naive. You knew who this man was, knew what he was trained to do and had done over the years. Yet somehow fate decided he was the one for you, and so you pushed any creeping fear you had aside and soaked a cotton ball in antiseptic. Stretching towards him, you froze when he tensed and shifted away from your hands, metal hand reaching for the empty holster at his hip.

His eyes flitted to the window, and it didn’t take a genius to know he was thinking of bolting. Your hands came up again in a show of surrender.

“I’m not going to hurt you, but I do need to clean those.” He moved away a second time when you extended your hands. Huffing through your nose in impatience, you sat back in the chair. “Look, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

You weren’t even sure what the hard way was because you were pretty positive the Soldier could prevent you from making him do anything he didn’t want to. Again, his eyes glimmered with amusement, and the corners of his mouth twitched.

“Glad to know you find this funny,” you snarked, but your lips curved into a smile just the same. You set the cotton ball on the table, the Soldier’s eyes watching carefully. “Would you at least like to clean up? I think I have some spare clothes from when my brother camped out on my couch. Come on, I’ll show you the bathroom.”

The Soldier followed you on silent feet. How was it a man so big could make no noise? It unnerved you a little, knowing at any point he could reach forward and snap your neck like a toothpick. Yet you trusted that he wouldn’t. How fucked up did that make you?

Flicking the light on in the bathroom, you began to point out everything for him. Where the towels were, how he was welcome to use whatever. You left him alone then, closing the door behind him quietly before going to your bedroom to dig through your drawers. Just like you predicted, you had a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt that your brother left.

You listened for the sound of the shower, and when it came you gave it a couple minutes before knocking lightly on the door. There was no answer, so you opened it just enough to stick your arm through and drop the clothes on the toilet. You kept your eyes down, knowing your shower door was semi-transparent and that there was a tall, handsome, very fit, very wet super assassin in it. Face warm, you closed the door and went back to the kitchen to clean up the unused first aid kit.

While the Soldier showered, you sent a quick email to your boss telling her you wouldn’t be in, having caught some kind of bug. She emailed right back wishing you to get well, and so you set about brewing a pot of coffee. As you bustled around the kitchen, you didn’t hear the shower cut off, didn’t hear the Soldier re-enter the room until you turned away from the cabinet, a coffee cup in your hand. Startled, it slipped from your grasp and made a beeline for the floor, but the Soldier was quicker.

Like lightning, he stepped forward, flesh hand stretched out and caught the mug by the handle. Still silent, he straightened up and held the mug out to you, dangling on his index finger. Captivated by the silent swiftness of him, you took the mug back and set it on the counter. You felt his eyes on the side of your face and it made your movements clumsy. He made you nervous, though not for the reason you should have been. Out of the corner of your eye, you observed him. The clothes fit him kind of small, the shirt stretched taut over his broad chest, the sweatpants riding about an inch above his ankles. Clearing your throat, you looked away.

You slid a mug to him, filled with hot, black coffee. “So do I not get a name? Because I can make one up and I’m not sure if you want me to do that.”

The Soldier picked up the mug with his metal hand, you watching with fascination at the ease and naturalness with which he used it, and took a small sip. He winced, from the temperature or the flavor you weren’t sure, so you took a guess and slid a cup of creamer and the sugar bowl towards him. He glanced at them curiously before dumping a hefty amount of both into his coffee.

“Okay, so no name huh? Well, I can call you….Edgar.” The Soldier grimaced and you snorted a little. “Nah, you don’t really look like an Edgar. How about….Pierre? Nope, not a Pierre. What about Napoleon?”

That earned you an unimpressed snort from the hulking man beside you, and you grinned widely. The Soldier’s eyes, ever observant, glanced down at your smile before they dropped to the coffee in front of him. Despite not knowing a thing about him, you could see him withdrawing into himself. You sighed quietly, gesturing to the living room. He sat on the couch, his large frame taking up most of it, while you opted for the armchair.

“Your cuts look better,” you observed, eyes trailing over his newly-cleaned face. The scrapes that had been covered in dirt and blood now looked to be healing over.

“I told you they’d heal.” His voice surprised you and your eyes snapped to his. His back was straight on the couch, still uncomfortable being here, and he was watching you closely. A relaxed smile curved your mouth as you sipped from your coffee.

“So, what do I do with you?” you wondered aloud. The Soldier didn’t answer. Instead, his eyes were drawn to the string around his metal left pinky. It was still glowing, still felt warm around your skin, and he followed it. “Do you know what it means?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, as if he was trying to remember, and he was. He’d heard some mention of an anomaly called ‘soulmates’ while he was under the thumb of HYDRA, though he never had the time or the control to think twice about it. Now that he was here, away from those scientists and their horrible experimentations, sitting on your couch, he had time to think about it.

The thought terrified him, that the universe would be so cruel to someone, to you, to deem him a worthy fit for you. He wasn’t fit for anyone, or anything really. He didn’t know who he was now that HYDRA was gone, and it wouldn’t be fair to you while he tried to figure himself out, discover who he really was.

“It mean that you and I are meant for each other,” you explained, watching him to gauge his reaction. There was none except for the lifting of his gaze to yours, a storm of emotions brewing behind the blue irises. “No one’s really sure how it happened. Science can’t really explain it. It just….happened. Everyone has one, a string that only they can see. I got mine when I was thirteen. You led me across the country, you know. I lived in Oregon until I was twenty-eight and then the string led me here to DC. I wasn’t sure I’d find you. I was ready to give up, but then, last night the string went crazy. Did you feel it?”

The Soldier looked at his finger again, raising it up off where it rested on his thigh. His arm was unique, an impressive piece of technology, but it didn’t give him the ability to feel. He shook his head, wondered why that thought made him suddenly sad.

“Oh.” Your voice was quiet, reserved, your bottom lip catching between your teeth. Pushing the sadness away, you pulled your legs up onto the chair, tucking your feet under you. “So now what are you going to do?”

He shrugged, and minutely you thought the gesture was extremely casual for the super assassin.

“Well, if you want, the couch is open to you until you figure out your next move.”

The Soldier’s eyes met yours, a gratefulness in them that you didn’t expect, and it took everything not to look away from them. He nodded almost imperceptibly, thrown a little by your endless kindness to him, and while he was grateful for it, he knew he’d be gone as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

Secretly, you knew too. Knew it deep down despite your stubbornness to not see it, to hope that maybe he’d stay. Why would he? The organization that trained him to be a heartless killer was gone, and he had no idea who he even was. There was nothing keeping him here with you, not even that string around his finger that he couldn’t even feel.

It was why you weren’t surprised when, hours later, you woke up from a nap to find your apartment empty. His tactical suit was gone from the bathroom, which showed no sign of anyone ever being in it besides you. And despite the fact that you knew he’d leave, you were still disappointed by it.

**_Two Years Later_ **

You groaned as your cell phone rang from your pocket, currently inaccessible due to the grocery bags hanging off your arms. Balancing them, you fished for your keys and unlocked your apartment, stumbling inside. You set the bags down on the floor and reached into your pocket, pulling your phone out and swiping the button answer.

“Hi, Mom,” you greeted breathlessly. “What? No, I’m fine. I just got back from grocery shopping. Of course I’m coming back for Christmas. My flight’s on the 22nd, so you guys have me for five days, okay? I know, I miss you all too. The guest bedroom is fine, Mom. I’ve gotta go, I need to put this stuff away and cook something for dinner. Okay, I’ll see you soon. Love you too, bye.”

You slid the phone away from your ear, dropping it onto the side table beside your front door. Arms laden with groceries again, you lugged them into the kitchen and put them away, leaving some pasta and sauce aside to cook for dinner. While the water boiled, you zoned out, eyes locked on the kitchen table.

Even two years later your apartment seemed empty without the Soldier. Since the day you woke up, alone, after finding him, you hadn’t stopped thinking of him. The string around your pinky hadn’t stopped glowing since that day, but it no longer vibrated, no longer tried to pull you in his direction. While you knew there was a slim to none chance of him actually staying, of being with you, his rejection still stung, and only at night, when you tried to sleep, did you let yourself cry out the heartbreak raging in your chest. The universe had played a sick joke on you, leading you to your soulmate only to rip him away. Clearly, you were doomed to live the rest of your life alone, and it embittered you.

Every time your coworker told a story about her soulmate, you tried not to grimace, tried not to snap at her to shut up. That not everyone got a perfect, happy ending. But each time you kept your mouth shut, refusing to rain on her happy life. You weren’t that person, you wouldn’t be that person.

So you suffered in silence, wondering if there was even a point in trying to find him again. The string still led off into the unknown, to wherever he’d decided to stay, but what would be the point? If he wanted you, he knew where to find you. Yet he stayed away. He’d made his choice, and you weren’t it.

The sizzling sound of water boiling over was what pulled you out of your head. Inhaling deeply, you wiped your cheeks, where silent tears had begun to fall the further down that rabbit hole you’d gone. Turning back to the stove, you dumped a hefty portion of pasta into the pot and added some salt.

Just as you reached for a saucepan, there came two knocks on your front door. You froze, eyes snapping to the door. You weren’t expecting company. Swallowing heavily, you set down the saucepan and walked to the front door. You stretched onto your toes, peering through the peephole and nearly crying with surprise.

You yanked the door open to reveal him, the Soldier. Two years had done him well. He was thicker, if even possible, and he kept his face hidden by a black baseball cap. He met your eyes briefly before looking away.

“You,” you breathed, letting your voice carry your surprise.

“Hi,” he responded unsurely, vivid blue eyes glancing up and down the hall. His fingers twitched around the strap of a backpack, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I, um, I think I owe you an apology and an explanation, if you’ll let me.”

You didn’t hesitate a second to pull the door open wider, heart filling with relief that he was really here, walking into your apartment. He still moved slowly, carefully, with all the skills of a trained assassin. You supposed that training hadn’t really left him.

The string was warm around your pinky now, glowing brightly yet again now that he was in your presence, and with it came a fullness to your heart. Like everything was complete. But your brain, ever the logical asshole, was still slightly wary.

“So, how about that explanation?” you asked, tone slightly sharper than you intended. The Soldier winced a little, twisting a sliver of guilt into your stomach.

“It’s going to be a long story, but first, I think I should tell you that my name is Bucky.”


End file.
